That dark evening, I kept the thought for another day..

Years and years this thought echoed in my mind, that why this maddening running in this life. In the end I will be same as what happened to the most primitive man took birth on this planet. No one knows him, no one knows what he did or invented. He is in soil. So, I must stop running. Parallel to this thought their was another one which asked me to make my existence worth. It was like the poem of Robert Frost. He writes, "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both". Later he ends up saying, "I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference".

But which is the one less traveled? The question's remain. Robert Frost in his other poem writes:

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Here woods is the metaphor for death. Death would be lovely, dark and deep. But before narrator is going to embrace death he has some social and moral obligations which needs to be full filled. He has to keep his promises and miles to travel.

I am sure like Robert Frost, that death would be beautiful and the final experience of my life. I would love to face it, more happily if I will be a martyr. But before this I have certain promises to keep. So, there are two roads infront me. The first questions my purpose to live. The second gives me a purpose. I keep the first thought for some other day. I chose the less traveled road like most of us "sub-consciously" but today I consciously decide believing the reason to continue my travelling on the second road. If death strikes me before I prove my blood, I swear I'll kill death like Captain Manoj Kumar Pandey. As I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep. 

Why I had to cut my baby hairs?

I was a small little boy,
running for kites under the sky,
I had those plastics toys,
which completed my world,

I called for you everywhere,
you were there to give me those coins,
holding your hand I slept,
and seeing you I got up,

Then one day when I was small,
Why I had to cut my baby hairs?
Why I had to break all those plastic toys?
Weeping, Grounded and Lost my childhood died,

I grew, slowly to find myself,
Jealous I learnt few kites you don't get,
No matter once you flew them,
One day you also left,


Why when I shouted you were not there?

Come in my dreams and answer me,

Let me die, then make me that child again,

Let me play from those plastic toys

This time I will not cut my baby hairs,

This time I won't let you go,

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